


Whitewash

by What_we_are



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2018-02-22 17:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2516519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/What_we_are/pseuds/What_we_are
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an AU conclusion to “Say My Name,” Walter’s body is found. His son and in-laws grieve, while his widow calculates how to protect the family and their ill-gotten wealth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this once before, and Linae generously offered to beta it. Thank you, Linae! 
> 
> I've been tinkering with this a long time, too long, so I told myself I couldn't read the new chapter of “If One Should Fall” until I got this thing posted.

At first Flynn was glad to be pulled out of pre-calculus. He thought maybe the office manager was there to tell him he’d forgotten about a counseling or physical therapy appointment. He packed up his stuff and took it with him out into the hall.

The woman referred to her slip of paper. “Your Aunt Marie called and asked that you come home immediately.” She clarified, “to your aunt and uncle’s.”

“Um. Why?”

“I don’t know. She said it was a family emergency.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

The woman walked away, leaving Flynn wondering what was written on the paper if she didn't actually have any information. It was typical of how things had been going lately, adults telling him he had to do things without explaining why. He was kicked out of his own house, now yanked out of class. How did they expect him to keep his grades up and get into a good college, if they kept fucking with him? He had the vague sense that everything was his mother’s fault.

He needed to call Marie, but his phone was in his locker. He made his way to it as quickly as he could without making his crutches click too loudly in the empty hallway.

The combination lock cooperated and opened on his first try. It would have taken too much thought to only take home the books he would need for homework. He just kept what he already had in his backpack. He put his cell phone in the front pocket of his jeans, so he’d be able to call Marie as soon as he got out to the parking lot, and had reception.

As he walked to his parking spot, his fears about the “family emergency” got more specific. He got to his car and leaned against it to make the call. Marie’s name was listed as a missed call. He pressed the green button to call her back.

“Flynn?”

“Hey, Aunt Marie, what’s going on? Is it my dad? Should I meet you guys at the hospital?”

“No, honey. Come straight home. Your mom is here. Just come straight home, to our house, okay? I don’t want you to talk on the phone while you’re driving. Just get here as soon as you can. I love you.” And with that, she hung up on him.

Flynn looked at his phone to be sure. He considered calling his dad, Hank, or even his mom, but it sounded like they were all together at Hank and Marie’s. Whatever it was they wanted to tell him, they wanted to say in person.

He got himself and his stuff in the car. Before he started it, he glanced at his rear view mirror and buckled his seat belt. It was easier to just follow the steps every time, instead of trying to remember to do it when his dad was with him. He put his left foot to the side and used his right. When he backed out, he reminded himself he was going to Hank and Marie’s, not home.

He didn't know if he should be scared or annoyed. Maybe this wasn't about his dad’s cancer at all. Maybe it was about him. It could be an intervention about him and Louis spending three nights a week at each other’s houses and not hanging out with anyone else. He cringed at the idea of Uncle Hank holding the talking pillow and saying, “It’s good to have a best friend, but you don’t want to put all your eggs in one basket, so to speak. I mean, how are you two ever gonna meet a girls, if you’re always at his house watching movies?” They wouldn't call him out of school for that.

He drove carefully as always. The Dodge Charger was not built for caution, but he knew he’d be back to the PT Cruiser, or no car at all, if he got in an accident. He was new enough at driving that he was always focused on the road, even when he was worried.

If Uncle Hank had gotten shot again, they’d be meeting at the hospital. It was more likely that this was about his dad’s cancer. Nothing could be wrong with Holly could it? If the family emergency was that his mom was divorcing his dad, he would bash them all with his crutches for pulling him out of class and making him worry. Her being a bitch wasn't an emergency; it certainly wasn't anything new. What if his dad had wandered off again? When they found him this time, they should put him in an Alzheimer’s home so they didn't have to keep doing this bullshit.

As Flynn pulled up to the house, he saw Aunt Marie fidgeting in the driveway. Before he’d even set the parking break, she was opening his door for him. Her eyes were red.

“Glad you're here sweetheart.”

“What the h-hell’s going on?” he asked, as he got his crutches on the ground.

She didn’t answer. As soon as he was out of the car and standing, she hugged him.

He hugged her back a little, with one hand and kept asking, “What? Why are you crying? Can you hear me? What’s going on?”

“Just come inside. Come sit with your mom in the living room.”

Flynn gave up on asking her. He walked faster, so he could get some answers faster. Marie went ahead of him and opened the front door. Uncle Hank greeted them and locked the door behind them. Flynn checked for everyone else. His mom was on the couch. When she looked up at them, Flynn saw that she looked even worse than Marie. Holly was asleep in the playpen. He didn't see his dad.

“Where’s Dad?”

Hank said “We’ll explain everything. Just have a seat. Do you need help with these?” He tried to help Flynn detach the arm brace parts of his crutches. Flynn decided to let him. He even let Hank hold his forearm to help him sit down beside his mom.

Her eyes were red and she had a hand over her mouth. She used her other hand to clutch his knee. She looked more upset than he'd ever seen her.

“Just tell me already. Where’s dad? Is he missing? Is he sicker?”

His mom shook her head, but didn't take her hand off of her mouth.

Marie sat on the other side of Flynn. She gave Skyler a chance to say it, and then she went ahead. “Your dad passed away.”

He looked at Hank for confirmation. When Hank didn't say anything Flynn said, “What the fuck! He was doing better! We need to get down to the hospital, cause this is a mistake. You guys don’t know. You can’t go from remission to dead like that- that fast. That doesn't make any sense.”

Hank told him gently, “It’s not a mistake, Flynn. He’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“He’s dead.”

Flynn pushed his mom’s hand off of him, and got out his phone. He was shaky as he scrolled to his dad’s cell number and pressed the call button. The three adults watched him listen the voice mail greeting that immediately played. He felt like he was slowly sliding down into the pit that they were already in. He closed the phone without leaving a message.

Marie said, “I’m so sorry Flynn.”

He asked Uncle Hank, “Where is he?”

Hank sat down in a chair across from them. He looked at his wife and sister-in-law before answering. “He’s at the morgue. I saw him.”

Flynn’s body believed it before his brain did. Tears ran down his face and he slumped forward to hold his head in his hands.

His mom put a hand on his shoulder and he didn't discourage her this time. Aunt Marie was still on the other side of him, and she put a hand on his back too. 

Hank had seen his dad. Hank knew for sure. Flynn felt like going to the morgue and being sure, but he knew his dad wouldn't want him to see him that way. They all cried, and no one said anything for a while.

Holly woke up fussy. Flynn looked up from his head in hands pose. “Can I hold her?”

He noticed that Hank must have stepped out on a call. Marie picked up the baby and set her on Flynn’s lap. He cradled her to his chest. His brain was lagging so far behind his body, that he wasn't sure if he said, “It’s okay Holly, everything would be alright,” out loud or just in his head. He wanted to comfort her, even though she looked perfectly happy. He had the passing thought that Holly was lucky to not know what was going on.

Things happened around him. His mom got up and came back. Hank talked on the phone in the other room. Marie drafted a list of people they would need to call.

“I can’t talk to his mother, Marie. I just can’t.” Skyler said it clearly, then went back to sobbing.

“I’ll make the calls. I can do that. It’s okay.” Marie looked up at Hank as he came back in the room and poured himself a drink.

Flynn noticed all of this, but the only person he was really paying attention to was Holly. She rested against him like she wasn't quite done napping. He offered his finger for her to hold. She grasped it, just like she had when she was brand new. She smacked her lips, sighed, and stopped wiggling.

“Sleepy little angle,” Marie said to nobody, or maybe to the sleeping baby.

Flynn’s phone rang in his back pocket. He looked to his mom. She met his eye and nodded, _I’m good, I won’t drop her._ Flynn handed the baby over and opened his phone. For the millionth time, he wished it was easier to leave a room and have some privacy.

“Louis?”

“Yeah. Hey, is your dad missing again or something? How come they let you out early?”

“He’s dead. He died, I guess.” Flynn hoped that he wasn't making it more true by saying it out loud. It was such a horrible thing to say. He wondered if it was impolite to tell Louis without warning him first, without telling him to sit down. He wondered if it was wrong to say it over the phone.

“Where are you?” Louis asked.

“My aunt and uncle’s.”

“I’ll be there in nine minutes.”

Skyler squeezed the baby to her chest, getting tears and snot on the top of her little head. She actually rubbed her face back and forth absentmindedly before she realized what she was doing. Marie placed a tissue in her sister’s hand and supported the baby’s back while Skyler blew her nose. Skyler took a second tissue and tried to get the snot out of her daughter’s fine blonde hair.

“It’s okay,” Marie said. “It’s okay. We’ll give her a bath tonight.”

Flynn asked, “Uncle Hank, how many minutes has it been?”

Hank stopped walking around and cocked his head. “Buddy, we called you as soon as we got the news. Your aunt called the school right away.”

“No. How m-many m-minutes since Louis called?”

“Shit, I don’t know, maybe five. You want me to check the driveway.”

Flynn nodded. Before Hank could check, Louis knocked. Marie jumped up to let him in. Louis forgot to even say hello to her. He went directly to Flynn, who had stood up by that time. Flynn held one crutch and wrapped the other arm around Louis. Louis hugged him back and kept him steady. He put a hand on the back of Flynn’s head and said, “I’m so sorry.”

After a few minutes, Flynn asked Louis to hand him his other crutch. His mom had disappeared. He told Hank and Marie, “We’re gonna go talk in my room, okay?”

His Uncle nodded. “Yeah. Whatever you need. You guys . . . you guys want some Frescas or something?”

They shook their heads.

There was a second after Louis shut the bedroom door when it seemed like they were going to kiss.

Louis averted it by asking, “Do you want me to put on some music?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to rub your back?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Is it okay if I rub your back?”

Flynn nodded. He sat on the bed and took off his jacket. He thought about how this striped shirt would always be the shirt he was wearing the day his dad died. The long-sleeved shirt underneath was black. He thought maybe when he put it on that morning he had known deep down that his dad was going to die.

It took him a minute to get his feet up on the bed and roll onto his stomach. Louis waited for him casually, like friends wait for each other doing anything, getting something out of their locker, going back for more ketchup, whatever. Louis never made Flynn feel like this was different.

Louis whispered, “Is it cool if I lock the door?”

“Yeah, that’s okay.”

Louis knelt on the bed next to him instead of getting on top like they’d done the last couple of times. They’d also been shirtless the last couple of times, but neither of them mentioned that. He started on the shoulders, softer than usual. Flynn rested his head on his fists. He didn't move his arms down to his sides. There wasn't much Louis could do to his shoulders with two layers of clothes all bunched up. Instead he ran his fingers through Flynn’s hair. He massaged the scalp, like the lady at the really expensive haircut place did.

Flynn said “good” so quietly that Louis would have missed it if he hadn't been so focused on him. He rubbed the pads of his fingers deeper. He used both hands and tried not to miss any part of his skull. Flynn started crying into his shirt sleeves. When the sobs ceased, Louis thought he might have fallen asleep, so he ran his hand softly down his back, like he’d seen Flynn do for Holly when she was sleeping.

Flynn turned on his back. “Hank saw his body.”

What happened to him?"

“I don’t know." 

"Do you want me to go ask? Go find out what happened?”

Flynn’s lower lip shook. Louis lay his head on Flynn’s chest. Before he could ask if that was okay, he had arms wrapped around him as confirmation. For the first time since he’d heard, Louis cried a little bit. He listened to the heartbeat under him and held Flynn tight.

Louis said, “We did everything we could to get those good doctors. And we did. The surgery and treatment worked. You did everything you could to help him.”

“I hassled him about having to stay here.” Flynn cried as if that it was the worst thing a son had ever done to a father. When he got his breath, he added, “Maybe he just didn't want me to see him get sicker.” 

Louis felt a flash of anger that Mr. White could know he was getting worse and not say anything. What kind of asshole left without saying goodbye? He hugged Flynn tighter. The time stretched out and the boys fell asleep.

Louis’s phone rang in his pocket, making him bolt upright. Flynn mumbled but didn't wake. Louis stepped away from the bed and straightened his clothes before he answered it. He realized it was silly as soon as he did it.

“Hi Mom.”

“Hey. Are you at Junior’s?”

“Yeah, but uh . . . something happened. Mr. White is dead.”

“Oh my god. Is Jun-” she caught herself, “Is Flynn okay?”

“He’s sleeping. He just found out this afternoon.”

“Is everybody there at his uncle’s house? Is Skyler alright? Tell her I want to help if there’s anything I can do. He was in remission wasn't he?”

“Yeah. I wanna stay here tonight.”

“Of course. Of course honey. I’m so sorry.”

* * *

Louis relayed his mom’s message to the adults sitting at the table together. They said "no", "maybe", "that’s kind of her." It didn't mater which of them said what. They were all in the same cloud of dazed grief.

Marie asked Louis, “Is he okay in there? Could you ask him if he wants dinner?”

“I’ll ask when he wakes up. Is it okay if I stay over? I have my sleeping bag in my trunk.”

“Of course you can stay over.” Marie got up and hugged him. “You are such a good friend to him, Louis.” She looked at him and shook her head like she was going to lose her shit, start bawling on the floor. “Do you need bedding?” She shrugged and waved a hand dismissing what she’d just said. “You know where it is. . .” the tears were increasing and her voice hitched. “ . . . hall cupboard.”

Louis was glad Hank was there to take her off his hands. As soon as he could, he slipped outside to get his stuff from his car. He took an extra minute to enjoy the fresh air. Grief made rooms stuffy. He'd noticed it in the gym too, when they were all supposed to talk about Wayfarer 515 crash. 

* * * 

Flynn was still sleeping on his back with one arm over his eyes. Louis wondered if he should wake him up and make him eat dinner. Instead, he rolled out his sleeping bag on the other side of the queen size bed and got in it.

It was the same sleeping bag he’d had since he was ten and they first started staying over at each other’s houses. It had even been on a few camp-outs, and had a little burn hole to prove it. For a long time, he had left it at the Whites' house. Since it was up in the air where Flynn lived nowadays, he kept it in his car. The red silky fabric was reassuring. Flynn had the same one, but orange. Both of them were lined with old-school plaid flannel. They thought their parents must have got them at the same store back in the day.

Hours later, Flynn nudged him.

“Louis?”

Louis rolled over so their faces were about a foot apart.

“I’m here, man. I’m still here.”

“We’re at Hank and Marie’s right?”

“Yeah.”

“It hurts.”

“I know,” Louis answered. They clasped all four of their hands together like they were praying for something. Louis was relieved when Flynn fell back asleep. There was nothing he could do about it. He wished Flynn could sleep through the whole thing and wake up when the loss had healed over.

The next morning in bed, Louis talked with his mom on the phone about whether he should go to school. They decided he’d only go for fourth period American History, because he had to help give a group presentation. Flynn was resting his head on Louis’s shoulder while he talked.

Louis hung up and asked, “Is that okay if I go for an hour or two?”

“Yeah. You should take my part of the report, too. I was gonna fix it up last night . . . but . . . so just tell them . . .”

“Flynn, they’re not going to care. You don’t need to worry about school stuff.”

“I can’t believe you went through this when you were only eight.”

“It wasn't the same. I didn't know what was going on. I miss him more now than I did when he died. Or I miss the idea of having a dad. I've probably talked to your dad more than I ever talked to mine. You know what he was like.” Louis brushed Flynn’s bangs to the side. “Coffee-o-coa?”

“Yes, please.”

* * *

Louis appeared to be the first one up. He started the coffee maker and grabbed the canister of cocoa mix, marshmallows and Nesquik syrup from the pantry. All the mugs in the cupboard in the cupboard were purple, but he found two white DEA coffee cups in dishwasher.

The coffee dripped so slowly, like a science experiment. He had secretly been looking forward to taking chemistry with Mr. White. The new teacher didn't do as many labs and demonstrations. Even after Mr. White retired and bought the car wash, Louis held out hope that he’d come back part-time. Kids had complained about him, but no other class had explosions and multicolored flames.

* * *

Skyler took a deep, toxic inhale of her cigarette, and looked out at the dead landscape that surrounded the Schraders' house. The pink sunrise was over and the scrub was mundane again. Last time she smoked out here she’d bummed one from a DEA agent and tried to hide it from her family. What she most remembered from that day was that Walt had described blowing up a nursing home as “winning.”

She wasn't a closet smoker anymore. She figured most women would have a pill addiction if they’d been through what she had. Actually, pills could be nice. Not anything wild, just whatever the doctor thought would be best. She was a widow now, managing a business, and raising two kids. That had to be good for a prescription or two.

It didn't matter for nursing anymore. Her milk had stopped coming in. She thought longer would have been better, but pumping had made her too heartsick for Holly. And she needed wine to get through dinners alone with Walt. If she’d known he would die so soon, she could have held out and kept pumping.

A week ago, he had pointed to her glass and said, “Is that such a good idea, with Holly still eating everything you eat?”

It had not been a question. It was in the same tone as when she was pregnant and hungry, and he’d say shit like, “I thought we’d nixed those frozen panini? Aren't those the ones with the off-the-charts sodium?”

It wasn't enough for him to get in her bed every night; he needed to control her at the dinner table as well.

She had answered him, “I haven’t pumped in two days. Marie says Holly likes the formula.”

Walt had given her a betrayed look. “Skyler, we agreed one year . . . minimum.” Shakes of his head had conveyed that he considered both her and her sister to be idiots. “I can’t believe that you would jeopardize our daughter’s health like this.”

Skyler had finished that large glass of wine, and poured herself another.

Now, as she sat on the deck in her robe, her mental list of horrible things he'd done kept growing. Logically, she knew she had to stop dwelling and make a plan. That gave her pause - dwelling, as in a place to live. If she wasn't careful, she’d be dwelling in all his misdeeds like a rat in garbage. Each lie and sin another scrap of filth in her nest.

He had tracked it into her life. He had brought that tank to her business, where Junior should be working, where Holly sometimes hung out in her office with her while she worked. He had brought that little stoner drug dealer into her house, sat him down at their family table. He’d even spread it over here when he told Marie about Ted, and when he let those cartel thugs shoot Hank.

Even in death, he threatened their safety. Why couldn't he have had the decency to die of cancer? What kind of amateur got himself murdered out in the middle of nowhere? If he’d told her more about the business, she’d be able to clean this up better. If he’d been honest about the risks, she might know who had killed him, and whether they’d be back for her and the kids.

She used the end of one cigarette to light to next one. She would need to hold it together. The first step should be safety. Hank was taking the week off. He hadn't taken his gun off when he got home yesterday. He might think the murder was a message from the same cartel that tried to kill him. She didn't know what he thought, but she believed they were safer with him than they were at the house.

Her next step was containment. If she handled this right her family would never know what Walt had done. She had suitcases of cash in a storage unit, but only an appropriate amount in the office safe. Whatever was in that trailer tank was valuable. Her hands shook as she brought the cigarette to her lips. She could try to get more money out of Jesse Pinkman. It wasn't worth the risk, especially when laundering what she already had would take long enough.

It would be a mistake to write out this list, which was a shame because her thoughts were out of order. She thought she must be forgetting something, something that would make "the story" more believable. If he’d died of lung cancer in the hospital like he was supposed to, she wouldn't have to worry about it. It was just one final way he’d let her down.

Maybe the next step would be calling Saul. It would be smart to consult him before the homicide detectives asked her more questions. After he offered her bereavement nookie or some other too-soon joke, he would probably help her. He had handled the thing with Ted – kind of.

She was surprised that her phone was in her robe pocket. Even though it didn't matter, it concerned her that she didn't remember putting it there. She needed to be sharp if she was going to get them through this.

She called Saul’s office. It was so early she expected to have to leave a message, but the receptionist answered and connected her right to him.

“Hi. Skyler?” Saul sounded flustered.

“I guess you've heard then, if you’re taking my call this time.”

“I saw on the news. I . . . are you calling because . . . We should meet in person. I would have called, but I don't think you want the cops to know that we know eachother. You haven’t talked to them yet have you?”

“They came to the car wash to tell me. I barely said anything. I’d like to talk with you today, before I talk to the detectives again.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Absolutely. Now would be perfect.”

“How about 10:00?”

“Also perfect.”

They hung up. It felt good to have an appointment, to be taking steps.

The things she'd been talking about with Hank and Marie could wait a day or two: moving her things into Holly’s room here, making arrangements for the body, planning a memorial, clearing out their old house. It didn't even occur to Skyler that she would take her kids back there. She used to think about the three of them living there, but she wouldn't feel safe now. Hank and Marie had insisted that she stay with them. They hadn't discussed for how long, but it could work. Skyler could make her own hours at the car wash, so she wouldn't have to spend too much time with her sister. This house was big and bright and didn't smell like smoke. Skyler didn't even feel like going back to her house to get her stuff, but she had to grab some office clothes before she saw Saul. Marie had packed a bag for her, but it was all comfortable clothes.

She reminded herself that they thought she had a therapist name Peter. They’d expect her to tell him about this and start going more often. Her divorce lawyer Pamela wasn't a therapist, but she wished she could see her every week and tell her everything. “Half as qualified and twice as expensive” didn't matter. She was smart and she could keep a secret. Skyler shook that stupid idea out of her head. There was no cover story for why she would see a divorce lawyer if her husband was dead. Plus, she couldn't take Pamela’s disappointed expression right now, and virtually everything Skyler had done since their last meeting would disappoint her.

Louis came out on the deck, startling Skyler out of her thoughts. He looked like he didn't expect to see her either.

She tried to look friendly. He had been avoiding her since the kids moved out, not that he’d been chatty with her before that. She wondered what Louis thought about her sending her children away. He was probably as confused as Flynn. It was possible that Marie had let slip about the affair or the pool incident. Skyler hated that it was possible. She didn't know what Flynn knew about, but anything Flynn knew, Louis knew too. Those boys shared everything: passwords, clothes, long phone conversations about their days even though they’d spent them together at school.

“Oh. Do you want to be by yourself?” he asked.

“No. It’s fine, Louis. Take a seat.”

He sat and looked at her blankly. He was kind of an odd kid, always quiet and observant. While he watched nonsensical cartoons with her son, he made friendship bracelets. The first time she saw him stick a safety pin right into her furniture she’d been irritated, but she already felt like a nag, so she let it go. Now he was here, and that chair was probably going to end up at the Goodwill.

Louis said, “I didn't know you smoked.”

“I quit for a long time. Is Flynn still asleep?”

“I think he’s getting dressed.”

Skyler nodded. It took Flynn a while to get dressed. The next several minutes could be just her and Louis.

“Does the smoke bother you? I could put it out.”

“It’s fine. I didn't get a chance to say before, but I’m sorry about what happened.”

She knew people were going to be saying this a lot, it was best to keep her reply simple. “Thank you.”

“I know Mr. White wasn't perfect. It’s still sad though. I thought he had a few more years. I’m sorry.”

Skyler’s heart rate went up. Not perfect? What did Louis know? For some reason, her mind went to the afternoon when Walt pushed her into the refrigerator door. She had always worried that Junior had noticed the green mud face print and realized what happened.

Louis said, “I’m writing a list of foods Flynn might want. I’m gonna go out today and get him some chicken nuggets and ice cream sandwiches and stuff.”

It broke her heart. This was the sweetest kid ever. He must have meant Walt wasn't perfect because he gave Junior tequila and made him move to his aunt and uncle’s. Walt got stuck being the spokesman for that one.

“He’ll like that. That’s a good idea. You boys are both so thin and getting taller all the time. What about jelly beans? Does he still like those?”

Louis wrote “jelly bellies” on the list and slid the pen and paper over to her. “Here, if you think of anything else. I’m going to see if the coffee’s ready.”

He went in the house, then came back out a second later. “Would you like some coffee, Mrs. White?”

* * *

Flynn sat on the couch with Louis, looking at nothing. He had used all of his energy getting out of bed and taking a shower. The pain was sharp. It wasn't like any metaphors. It was like having your dad die when your sixteen. He appreciated that Louis brought him a drink, but he couldn't say it. He wanted to toss all of Marie's books off the shelves and break things, but it would have taken effort. He didn't even have enough energy to pick up his coffee and drink it. 

He could hear Hank and Marie around the corner, in the hallway. Their discreet voices annoyed him. He called out, “W-What, what are you guys talking about? If you’re talking about me, just tell me, or go further away, so I can’t hear you.”

They came in, and Uncle Hank looked ready to say something. He even had his hand out. He clinched his jaw, sighed and left the room. Flynn could see him and his mom talking on the back porch. He looked at Louis like, _what the fuck?_

Hank reappeared without Skyler, and more or less spit it out. “So, we didn't explain everything last night. Your dad . . . Well, he was a gambling addict, that must have been a factor. Maybe. Point being . . . the cops found him out where he had no business being. He may have had another one of those fugue states. Somehow he got mixed up in something. The Salamanca family is gone, otherwise I’d think it was more of those psychos looking to hurt me through my family.”

Flynn didn't understand any of this.

Louis spoke for both of them. “You mean it wasn't the cancer?”

“Someone shot him.”

Flynn blurted out, “He- he’s a teacher!”

“I know. They didn't steal his wallet, or his fancy watch, or the car, so it was either random, or maybe it had to do with the gambling, like I said.” Hank squinted and seemed to have trouble making sense of it himself. “We don’t know yet.”

Flynn didn't want to know what Hank was going to say next. He didn't want to know any of this shit. Everything kept getting worse.

Uncle Hank was still saying things like “homicide unit” and “every confidence.”

Flynn slumped over onto a lavender throw pillow and fell asleep before his uncle could tell him anything else.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time, no see. not beta read. this story does have an ending and I promise to post it.

Skyler stayed outside absorbing nicotine. She noticed, in a delayed way, there were fewer people in the living room. It was just the boys now: Flynn sleeping with his shoes on the couch; Louis messing with his phone. 

It was bizarre to be close, but divided by a window. It was necessary though. She couldn’t keep up the lies in this weakened state. She had to conserve her emotional energy for putting out fires that the family didn’t know about. 

Seeing her son asleep like a puppy made her doubt herself. Her deepest fear was that she could have convinced Walt to stop. She could have kept explaining and protesting instead of shutting down. She could have been more articulate, more persistent. She was a published writer: she was supposed to be able to put words together. If it had been a formal debate, like she’d done in high school, there would be no way his side would win. Resolved: Walter White shall provide money for his family by manufacturing meth and committing murder as needed. The con side would win every time, but somehow she had lost. Everybody had lost. 

She absentmindedly rubbed her hands together, as if she could get the smoke residue off of them. 

She tightened her robe belt and went inside. Louis looked up at her and nodded. She gave him a little smile. 

He asked her, “You already knew? What Hank was saying about it not being cancer?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Louis. I couldn’t tell Flynn. I… He’s…”

Louis closed his phone. “So Mr. White was killed on purpose?”

“Yes. That’s what the police told me and that’s what they told Hank.” 

“Okay. I was thinking it might be on local news, like, Flynn shouldn’t watch that.” While he spoke, a tear slid down his cheek. 

Skyler didn't move. If she sat next to him, if she hugged this child, she would fall apart and not be able to keep her appointment. 

Skyler told Louis, “I’m going to go to the house and get some things. And I’m going to see my therapist. Should I write a note for Hank and Marie, or can you tell them?”

“I’ll tell them, Mrs. White.”

“You can call me Skyler. You call Hank and Marie by their first names don’t you?”

“Yeah. I guess I called you Mrs. White cause Mr. White was a teacher.” 

Skyler didn’t know what to say. She turned to Holly who’d been there quietly in her playpen the whole time. The baby was exploring the mysteries of a plastic stacking cups. Actually, she was fixated on the yellow one. Everything Holly had she put towards understanding the item. At least that’s how it looked to Skyler. Holly kept mouthing it and waving it in the air.

“She loves that cup.” Louis said. 

Skyler nodded and turned to him. “Can you keep an eye on her? She should be fine. Hank and Marie will take care of her, just, you know, tell them if she needs anything.”

“Yeah. No problem.”

“Thank you, Louis. Thanks for being here.”

***

On the drive to her house she tried to think about painting the room she and Holly would be sharing at Marie’s. She even had ambitious thoughts of getting herself a single bed instead of the fold-out couch bed that took up so much floor space. The room was white but she could make it yellow or pale blue. The only reason they’d gone green on Holly’s nursery at the house was because they had left over paint from Junior’s room. 

As she got closer to her house, she let all these stupid thoughts go. 

As far as she could tell, no one was following her. There were no unusual cars parked on her street. There were two bouquets on the welcome mat and a grocery bag hanging from the door knob. 

She held her mace inside her purse as she approached the door. The grocery bag ended up having an a an apple pie, from the neighbor Becky, in it.

The house already felt abandoned. Skyler had only been gone one night but she felt like a scuba diver about to go through a shipwreck. She locked the door behind her. Everything was technically the same, but too still, too many dust motes, too quiet. She moved like something was slowing her down. She imagined fish waiting to startle her in the hallway. 

_Jesus, Skyler. Pull it together. Let’s get this done without hallucinating. You can’t protect your kids if you’re off the deep end. You just need to clean things up, then you can rest and grieve with your family._

She set the pie on the counter. She ignored the blinking answering machine light and peeked in Flynn’s room. 

On the worst night last week she’d cried on his bed while Walt was… wherever he was. 

The somber light through the curtains made it look uninhabited, even though most of Flynn’s things were still there. There was the stack of empty cd cases on his desk that he left when he moved his music into a portable book for his new car. His little TV was dusty. There were a few papers on the floor and a book he was probably supposed to be taking to English with him. Long ago, last week, she had suspected him of leaving it on purpose, so he could complain to his teacher that his parents had kicked him out. 

She touched his shirts on their hangers.

She knew it was too soon to make any decisions, however, she thought about renting the house out and claiming more income from it than the actual rent amount. Or turning it into a big storage closet - a place to put extra clothes and holiday decorations and Costco amounts of paper towels that would otherwise crowd the Schrader’s garage. It was also tempting to clean it out. Let Walt’s ghost rattle around in complete emptiness, without a single photo or piece of furniture. 

Skyler showered and dressed. With the right wrap around dress and a little waterproof mascara, she looked like she could do what needed to be done. 

 

* * *

 

Skyler parked in front of Saul’s office a couple of minutes early. She regretted that Pamela couldn’t help her with this. Pamela was competent and her office was sleek and professional. Skyler was reminded of the contrast as she walked under the inflatable Statue of Liberty and heard Saul’s waiting room music. 

The receptionist told her to go in. Saul was wearing a dark blue suit and subdued tie. The shirt was a loud shade of blue, but Skylar wondered if the dark suit was a nod to Walt’s passing. 

He gave her a two-handed handshake. “Hey. Skyler, my condolences for your loss. Good thing you look terrific in black, eh?” 

She stared at him, wondering how long he would talk if she didn’t say anything. It could be to her advantage to let him embarrass himself. If he was apologetic, he might share more information.

“Sorry. You look good is all. Take a seat. Can I get you something to drink? Nescafe? Powdered mini-doughnut? How’s your appetite? My Aunt Patsy lost sixty pounds when her husband died. Of course,sixty five would have probably been better for her diabetes.” 

Saul settled on his side of the desk. Their eyes met and he changed course. “So, how ‘bout you tell me what you know and we’ll go from there.”

“What I know?” Skyler repeated just in case he didn’t know that she thought he was a fucking idiot. “The police came to my work told me they found him dead in that stupid car. They asked when I’d last seen him or spoken to him. I told them the truth, I’d seen him at breakfast and had no idea where he was going that day. My brother-in-law picked us up, the baby and I. My sister called Junior out of school. There’s a detective, Tim Roberts, who I met before, when Walt faked that fugue state. He called, but I didn’t tell him anything. I think he was offering his sympathy more than interviewing me.” 

Skyler went on, “I know it was him they found. Hank talks to the cops for me. They tell him more. Walt was shot twice and burned in his car. I don’t care who did it as long as they’re satisfied, and not coming after me and my family. Let’s see, what else do I know? I know there better not be any other drug chemicals squirreled away in my car wash. I know that if the detectives look in my storage unit, I’m screwed.

“Why? What do you have?”

“A lot more cash than I can explain. 

“First off, no one is coming after your family.”

“So you know who killed him?”

Saul wobbled his hand and admitted, “Probably. I know who he was meeting. I… yeah. This person was leaving town anyway. He’s gone. On an unrelated topic, do you by any chance know where Jesse Pinkman is?” 

“Me? No. He had dinner at my house a couple of nights ago and he came to the car wash with Walt to pick up a huge tank of something. You think he did it?”

“Not him. Mike.” When Skyler gave him a blank look, Saul looked scared. He added, “I thought you being in the loop meant you were in the loop. Forget that name I just said. I never said that.”

“Was Mike a rival drug dealer?”

Saul made a tight expression, almost a cringe, then gave it all up. “He was the third partner. The DEA was looking at him too closely, so he was leaving town. Walt went to take him his go-bag. I have no idea what happened. But that’s who he was meeting at that spot.”

“We’re staying at my brother-in-law’s house. Mike isn’t crazy enough to come after us there is he?”

“No. He wouldn't, anyway I’m sure he’s gone. It’s way too hot-”

Skylar interrupted. “What does he look like?”

“Like the grumpy old man from ‘Up.’ You know, the one with the balloons and the boy scout who doesn’t know how to shit in the woods?” 

“Stop. Just tell me what he looks like.”

“White. Sixty five. Bald. Inconspicuous. But, I’m telling you he’s long gone. I don’t think he’s on the continent and he doesn’t go after families.” 

Saul tried to tactfully switch gears, “As far as the money, I’ll have Francesca rent a safe deposit box in her name and you’ll be all set.”

“No, thank you.”

“Yeah, I get it: we’re not friends. But I’m telling you, if they get even a whiff of meth fumes- ” 

“What is Vamanos Pest?”

“Whoa. Did he wear the coveralls home or something?”

“So that is the front. I need you to make certain that his name doesn’t appear anywhere at that office.”

“Gee. Thanks for the tip. I’ll put a little Liquid Paper over his name on the time-sheet. Take down his ‘Cook of the Month’ photo, while I’m at it.”

“Saul, I guarantee it will be bad for you if I get arrested.”

Saul put up his hands in mock surrender. “We’re on the same team here! You don’t need to threaten me! I know what’ll happen if you go down. Hey, I’m the one that would have to go to _real_ prison.”

“I looked up Vamanos Pest and it’s still standing. Isn’t it protocol to burn down the drug lab in these situations?” 

“Look, I’ll handle business and you handle laundering all that money he made for you.”

Skyler stayed on point. “There’s a lab and trailer tank sitting around somewhere with Walt’s finger prints all over them. You must have an arsonist in your rolodex right? You need to fix this.”

“Uh. No. That stuff is expensive. Think of it like... a trailer of gold. Better yet, straw that can be spun into gold. One Rumplstiltzkin is dead, but the other one may still be around.” Saul took a deep breath and continued. “Tell you what, I’ll have my guys scrub the incriminating items. Not that there’s anything that ties Walt to Vamonos, but as a personal favor to you. I can bribe the exterminators extra to keep it there till I figure out if Pinkman’s going to poke his head back up. If he’s skipped town, which, I doubt he’s smart enough to do, we’ll revisit the topic.”

“I don’t care if you sell it; just wipe it down for fingerprints. I don’t need any more money. I need my husband’s good name intact.”

“Do you want the Sgt. Shultz speech again before you talk to the APD?”

Skyler stood up. “No thank you.” 

“Just my two cents - you should try to look sad when you talk to the authorities. Some actors draw from emotionally charged memories like back when Checkers got run over, or you peed your pants during the school play.”

It was early, but she was ready to take off her heel-shoes and nap with Holly.

Something didn’t add up. Skyler sat back down. “Why would Jesse Pinkman be smart to leave town? You said Walt’s murderer is gone. What’s going on that makes you think Pinkman should leave? I need to know, did someone talk to the cops, some little dealer or something?”

Saul didn’t see any point in lying to her. “There’s eight of them in lock-up, probably spilling their guts to your brother-in-law, as we speak. These were Gus Fring’s guys. I don’t see how they would have heard of you or the new operation.”

“I don’t want them to have heard of Walt either. You weren’t going to tell me about this?! Saul, I need my family name untarnished. My son went on the local news to say how much he admired his father and thought he was a hero. His life is already hard; I’m not going to drop this on him.”

“Yeah, I saw the website. Very moving. But listen, Walter’s fate is out of our hands. It’s time to protect ourselves. You will be shocked and saddened by allegations of misconduct. The guy was sneaky. Hell, his DEA brother-in-law didn’t know about it either. Maybe Walt goes down, but you maintain plausible deniability. You had no idea he was cooking. He said he was good at counting cards. You believed him. The whole community is so shocked to learn- ”

“I need to kill those men in lock up all at once.”

Saul was taken aback. “What are you talking about? Right now, you are practically innocent. You want to add conspiracy to commit murder?”

“I want my son to have good memories of his father.”

“Doing it for your family. Yeah, I’ve heard that somewhere before.”

“Saul, put me in contact with the person who,” Skyler searched for the word, “facilitates in-prison killings, or whatever they’re called.”

“You don’t want to be in a room with these guys.”

“If you make this happen, you can have that tank of chemicals and whatever gear and product he had on hand.”

“You already said I could have that stuff.”

“Walter cannot be a drug dealer. I need my name and my business. My kids need their name.”

“This is the worst idea that has ever been spoken in this office, and that is saying something, because my clients are idiots.” 

“I’ll pay you. Whatever it takes Saul. But we need to clean this up. Right now, my family is drawn together, missing Walt. I need to keep it that way.

Saul breathed deeply. “First, you would need to know who you want killed. I only know a couple of the obvious ones like the manager of the laundry. Hopefully my guys find Pinkman and he can make the request, otherwise you’re going to be cold calling the world’s most nervous chemical supplier slash meth distributor.” 

“Give me his number,” Skyler demanded.

“It’s a her.”

 

* * *

 

Flynn watched Louis unpacked groceries on the Schrader’s counter. It was like trick-or-treating on steroids. There was everything that Flynn loved. Marie had been getting him some stuff since he’d been living there, but this was everything that would have sounded good a couple days ago.

Louis put the frozen stuff in the freezer. “Does anything look good to you?”

Flynn shook his head.

Louis reminded him, “You didn’t eat last night. And you didn’t want breakfast or lunch except coffee. You have to eat something. We could go out for pizza.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. I’ll drive.”

Louis drove the Charger. Flynn didn’t feel up to it, and it’d be such a waste to take Louis’s car. Louis’s car was ordinary. It needed the radiator topped off every couple of days, and the steering wheel made a noise when it was cold out. It was fine, but it wasn’t a brand new red and black Dodge Charger.

They were going to ask permission for him to drive it, but everyone was gone or napping. Even Holly was asleep on Hank’s chest while he slumped snoring in his favorite chair.

Actually, Louis had driven it once before, out in an empty parking lot, even though the Whites had been very clear that no one but Flynn was allowed to do so. He hadn’t done anything too crazy, just some doughnuts, and a sudden stop from 40 mph.

As they drove to the restaurant, Flynn asked, “Remember when I showed you this car?”

“Yeah.”

“You were all like, ‘This car is the tits!’ even though you don’t even like boobs.”

Louis fidgeted with the rearview mirror. “I still don’t get why that’s so funny to you.”

Flynn actually smiled. “You should say it’s ‘the balls’ like the guy in Anchorman.”

Louis shook his head and kept his eyes on the road. Whatever took Flynn’s mind off the situation for a second was good.

When they got there, he parked way out where no one would scratch it. There were only a couple other cars, so it probably wasn’t necessary, but he also wanted to make Flynn walk. Flynn hadn’t moved around all day which tended to make his muscles seize up.

They clicked their way across the parking lot at Flynn’s pace, til his phone rang. He held it up so Louis could see it was Aunt Marie.

Flynn told Louis, “I’ll, I’ll see you in there.”

Louis went in and picked a booth with a view of the parking lot and mountains. This restaurant was exactly the same as it had been when they were kids, kind of dark, never very busy.

Before long, Flynn was there, setting his crutches down and sitting on the dark red vinyl bench across from Louis.

“Did you order?” Flynn asked.

Louis nodded and drank his root beer through a straw.

“Hawaiian?”

“Yeah.”

Flynn absentmindedly drank his root beer too. “Did I ask you how school went?”

“It was fine. We presented. We’ll get the grade next week. Everybody asked about you and wanted me to tell you best wishes, or sympathy, or I don’t remember what it’s called. You know what I mean.”

“Con-condolences. It’s called condolences.”

“Maybe. And Rachel said to ask if you want her to make caramel corn or cookies or something. She wanted to come over tonight but I talked her out of it.”

“I love you.”

Louis let go of his straw and sat up. He looked him in the eyes and whispered back, “I love you, too.”

Flynn marveled at Louis’s blonde eyelashes. He had thought maybe grieving people only had room in their hearts for grief, but he felt a lot of room for Louis.

“Maybe we should tell them-- ” Louis suggested quietly.

“No w-way. I need you. Your mom will make us leave the door open… we wouldn’t be able to stay overnight at each other’s houses. Your mom would make us take your sister and her friends with us when we go camping.” Flynn took as deep breath. “They leave us alone now… I might be living with three parents now. It would mean more rules and…”

“I just want to hold your hand in front on people. There’s gonna be a funeral or something. I don’t want to sit far away from you-- ”

“Why would you sit far away? It won’t be like that. You’ll sit with me. Whatever it is, you’ll sit next to me. Nobody’ll think it’s weird if we touch a little. I’ll be like, ‘I’m fuck’n bereaved, motherfuckers.’”

“Sorry I brought it up, man. Whatever you want. You’re right. We don't have to deal with this now. It’s cool. I didn’t want to make things harder, I just... I guess, if I can sit next to you, that’s the main thing.”

“Everybody knows were best friends.”

Louis nodded. “I know.”

In the end, Louis was proud that Flynn ate a whole slice of pizza, plus all the pineapple off Louis’s pieces. That's all that really mattered. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flynn is one hurtin' pup.

It had been years since Skyler had used a payphone. She tried to tell herself that the stickers and graffiti didn’t indicate actual grime. She dialed the number Saul had given her. 

Lydia answered on the first ring, “Yes?”

Skyler said, “I understand that this is a burner phone is that correct?”

“Who are you?” Lydia wanted to know.

“You worked with my husband. He was killed yesterday. You and I have a mutual problem. Ten mutual problems.”

“Who killed him?”

“Someone named Mike.”

“Mike. Why? Why are you calling me?”

“I need the specifics from you.”

“The specifics?”

“The names.”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to incriminate myself on the phone to someone I don’t know.” Lydia paused for a moment, then said, “Where is Mike? How do you know it was him? When did this happen?”

“I don’t know that it was him. Saul thinks it was. I don’t care. I just want out. Cleaning up this mess-- ”

Lydia interrupted, “Okay. You need them too, Mike and Jesse, or else the other ten names won’t mater. I could leave a written list in a public place, hidden. Are you familiar with Houston?”

“I am not driving out there.”

“It wouldn’t have to be you. A worker. Send Jesse. He could do it.”

Skyler almost smiled at the assumption that she would know where to find Jesse Pinkman and that he would do something she asked him to do. 

She tried to be matter-of-fact without condescension, “I understand your caution, but we need to get this done as soon as possible. What if I call you from a different payphone in twenty minutes?”

“I have to think about it.”

* * *

Skyler didn't bother identifying herself when she called from the next payphone. She pleaded, “Please tell just tell me the names. I already made an appointment with people who can help. Rescheduling isn’t possible.” There was a pause on the line. “Come on, I'm a mother. I’m exhausted, and I’m probably getting ringworm from this payphone. Just tell me and I’ll fix this for both of us. Do you have any choice? Is there another other way to stop what we both know is going to happen.”

After a second Lydia said, “Like I said, there are twelve problems not ten. Mike has to be first on the list because he will see it coming. I hope your guy is very good.”

“Do you have people who could help? We could split the list?”

Lydia was incredulous. “No. Who do you think I am? Look, I tried to take care of this earlier, but now it’s impossible. I’m packing.” It sounded like she was literally packing as they spoke. “I think you should be leaving town as well. It’s over. It’s impossible to get everything done at exactly the same time. Do you understand what I’m saying? They will notice a pattern and protect the ones who are left.”

“I understand. If I do this for us, spending my own money, I need to know that you will not turn me in if you get arrested.” 

Lydia audibly exhaled. “Are you threatening me? Because I am not a person that you want to threaten.”

“I’m not threatening you. I’m asking you to not hurt my family. It would hurt them if I were implicated, or even if my husband was. I’m going to solve this problem for both of us, and all I ask is that you not stab us in the back.”

“If you somehow pull this off, and the last ones standing are you, me, the lawyer… if it’s just us left, I won’t take actions against you. I’m destroying this phone now.”

Lydia hung up first.

* * * 

There were hours where Flynn just sat on the couch and did nothing. It took energy to believe that his dad was really dead. It was easier to believe he was at home and would visit later to watch a movie with them. Flynn tried that. He tried picturing his dad cleaning the kitchen or working the register at the car wash. He even left a message on his cell. 

“Hey Dad. It’s me. Mom’s here now, too. You should come over and see this funny new thing Holly can do.” He cried but stayed on the line. “Uncle Hank has almost got the Gus Fring case all solved. I told him I should have taken that job at Pollos Hermanos, so I could have been a spy for the DEA. See…” Flynn tried to say “See you tonight,” but he couldn’t get it out. 

He closed the phone.

Louis came in the front door calling out, “Hey, it’s just me.” He used to add “don’t shoot” at the end, but it wouldn’t be funny anymore. Flynn didn’t realize he’d left the door unlocked. Part of him didn’t care. 

Flynn didn’t turn his head when Louis sat beside him. He was so deep inside himself that he couldn’t tell what he had said out loud or how long Louis had been there. 

Purposefully, he said out loud, “Maybe he knew someone was after him and that’s why he made me and Holly stay here at Hank and Marie’s.”

“Maybe.” Louis looked around the living room. Where is everybody?”

“I don’t know where Hank is. Mom and Marie are looking at the place for the memorial. My mom said her and Holly were going to the car wash after that, but she might be lying.”

Louis tugged at Flynn’s hand to get him to look over at him. “I don’t know Flynn. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m here.”

“I don’t understand why hearing that your dad has been murdered is only supposed to be shocking the first time you hear it. It’s not getting easier. It feels like Hank just told me . . . I think Hank told me. I can’t remember. I’m going crazy.”

“You’re doing really good,” Louis assured him.

“Did you watch TV or read the paper about it?”

“Yeah.”

“Does it make any sense?”

“Not yet, but I think they’ll solve it. They’ll catch the person and lock them up.” 

Flynn started crying harder. When he could speak, he said, “It doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean? I know he’ll still be gone, but at least you’ll know. In a way, it’s a good thing there was a fire and somebody saw it, otherwise we’d be out there looking for him again. I think maybe it’s better to know the truth, than to worry and be out there putting up signs.” 

Flynn said something Louis couldn't make out.

Louis asked him to repeat it.

“I need to pretend it was cancer. My dad died of lung cancer. I’m not being crazy. I know how… I know. I can’t deal with them too. I can’t handle knowing there’s a person who would do that to my dad. I mean, he was bleeding and there was fire all around him . . .”

“Jesus, Flynn. It’s okay. It was cancer. He just fell asleep at the hospital. It’s fine. You’re gonna be fine.”

Flynn’s words came out in tumble. “Whatever happened, I can’t keep thinking about it anymore. Maybe he did it to himself, but it wasn’t really him. It wasn’t his fault. Gambling addiction is a real thing. Or, like Hank said, it could have been another fugue state.” Flynn blew his nose. “I’m gonna pretend it was the cancer. Can we do that?”

“Yeah. Of course. We did everything we could think of to help him get those good doctors. We made the website. Everybody tried their best, and he did get the best treatment and he got better for a while. You did everything you could. And you wrote that essay for the website. He knew you loved him. He knew.”

Flynn struggled to say, “It would be like hell. Being shot and on fire is exactly what hell would be.”

Louis had tears running down his face too. “Should I call your aunt or something? I don’t know how to help you.”

Flynn was too distracted to answer. “He was really only honest with me that one time, my birthday. He was just, like, real for one night. He talked like a normal person. He told me how he wanted me to remember him after he died. And he didn’t want me to be mad at my mom. He didn’t want me to remember him as sick, cause his dad had been really sick and that’s all he remembered about him.”

Louis squeezed Flynn’s hand. “You can’t feel guilty for remembering what you remember. It’s not up to him. It’s just the truth. He wasn’t perfect. I mean, he called you ‘Jesse.’”

It took Flynn a long time to get his reply out. “If I don’t think about the gunshots and fire then I’ll be a good son. He said exactly how he wanted to be remembered. He told me his wishes.”

Louis asked, “You know what I remember about your dad?”

“What?” 

“When he bet us that he could pour all that salt into the glass of water without making it overflow.”

“Yeah and he explained it for like ten minutes.” Flynn felt a little better for a second. "That reminds me, Aunt Marie wanted me to ask you if you’d read part of the 'Save Walter White' essay at the memorial for me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t like talking in front of people. Maybe Hank or somebody could do it. I mean, it’s a good idea. It’s a good thing… you wrote.”

“It’d be too weird if Hank read it cause he’s the 'sports dad' that I said I’m glad I didn’t get, you know?”

Louis was desperate to not do it. He suggested, “What about Principal Carmen? She could read part of it. That’d be nice. She talks in front of people all the time and she, like, came to your parties and stuff. I mean they were friends.” 

Flynn made an expression that kinda looked like a frown and nodded. “One time he stepped on this guy’s leg cause he was making fun of me. I didn’t tell you.”

“Who? Mr. White or Hank?”

“My dad. He hurt him pretty bad and he said ‘What’s the matter? Having trouble walking?’ It was so weird. I think he was pissed ‘cause he just found out he had cancer, but he hadn’t told us about it yet.”

“Maybe hanging out at those illegal card games made him tough.”

“Maybe.”

* * * 

Saul was outside Denny’s waiting for Skyler. He started talking right away before they went inside. “I did a little research on that tank. Unless my calculator’s broken - it’s worth a fortune. I moved it for safe keeping." 

Skyler realized how hasty it'd been for her to give up her claim on the tank. "Can we pay Mr. Welker with it?"

"Ha. Mr. Welker. They're already here. We should go in. And yes, he's interested in it."

Saul escorted her to a booth where a leathery convict sat next to a blonde kid from the 1950’s. The “Leave it to Beaver” one wasn’t a kid; he was probably in his early twenties. 

Saul made the introductions. He caught her up. “We’ve been discussing the methylamine. Turns out Mr. Welker has some friends in the business and is interested in a trade." 

Saul's phone rang and he quickly got it out. Skyler say the name "Ignacio" displayed on the phone's small outer screen. 

Saul said to the three of them, "I have to take this. I am so sorry," and left. 

So Skyler was left in a Denny's with the a man who looked like the initial suspect in every police drama she’d ever seen, and his nephew who looked like the actual culprit, who had hidden in plain sight right up until the dramatic conclusion. 

Todd said, “Mrs. White, before we talk business, I just want to say that I’m very sorry for your loss. I didn’t get to work for Mr. White for very long, but I could tell that he was a great man and just really smart and nice. He was patient with me and I really appreciate that.”

“Thank you, Todd.” Walt had never mentioned him, but she might as well lay it on. This was her only chance to keep her family safe. “Walter thought that you showed a lot of potential.”

Todd was obviously pleased with himself. He looked around and asked, “So Mrs. White, should we get down to business? The lawyer said you need help with a problem.”

“Yes. There are ten men who could inform on Walt and I need all of them to die within a two minute window. 

Jack snorted. He said to his nephew, “This is stupid. I’m gonna smoke.” 

Skyler tried to hide her surprise, as she continued talking to Todd. “Do you have affiliates in these four prisons?” She showed him the list. 

“Yeah, sure.” He turned to Uncle Jack. “You really leaving?”

“Smoke break,” Jack answered. 

Todd smiled at Skyler apologetically and went on, “See, the problem is - prisoners mostly stay in their cells and we can’t even talk to our guys very often. It’s pretty much impossible to do what you’re asking.” 

Skyler said "Nothing is impossible. I need this to happen."

Todd didn’t say anything.

Skyler wondered if something else had his attention. She looked behind her and saw nothing.

Todd grinned. “I’m sorry. Mr. White was kind of older. I didn’t know you would be so young and pretty. I mean that as a compliment. I hope it didn’t sound disrespectful.”

“Not at all.” She smiled and had a sip of water. “I’m glad we’re finally meeting, since having dinner never worked out.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Walt wanted to have you over, to get to know each other outside of work. He considered you a protege.”

“Well maybe you and I could still be friends.”

Skyler’s stomach flipped. This boy wasn’t just off. He was dangerous. She may need to sic Hank on him as soon as the prison hits were done. 

She stated, “I need to leave town right away, if these men aren’t dealt with.”

It wasn’t true. Or maybe it was. She just needed this thing done. 

They both looked at Jack out in the parking lot smoking and scowling at traffic. 

Todd said, “I can convince him. It’ll take a couple of days to get it together, but if anybody can do it, it’s Uncle Jack. He’s as smart as your husband, just in a different way. Listen, between us, can you go higher on the price? It might help convince him. the tank is good, but we could use some cash too.”

“All I have is three million.”

“That’s good. That gives us some room to negotiate.” 

Skyler couldn’t tell if Todd was stupid, or if he thought she was. Who would have thought neo-nazi hit men used the same tactics as used car salesmen. 

Todd went out and had a discussion with his uncle. Skyler ordered corn flakes, because she was afraid the smell of anything else would make her throw-up. She actually ate a few bites, before Todd come back in.

“He said he can do it for two point seven. One million up front. The rest due when it’s done. And the tank upfront. We'll work that out with Mr. Goodman.”

Skyler didn’t want to think about whether Todd had negotiated on her behalf, or if he just wanted her to think that he had. Either scenario made her feel unsteady. She worried that she might start crying. She couldn’t tell if it was from missing Walt or from being scared.

Todd unfolded the paper and read the list one more time. He concentrated like reading didn’t come easy for him, or maybe he was thinking about the next steps. He refolded it and put it in his wallet. 

“You have the money today right? In your trunk?”

She nodded. 

“That’s really good. Do you want to finish our breakfast first?”

“No. Now is fine.”

Skyler opened her purse to pay for the cereal, but Todd said, “It’s my treat, Mrs. White.”

She let him pay. She felt in her throat that she would cry soon. Getting outside and lighting a cigarette helped. Smoking used to feel like a failure, but now it felt like a sign that she was tough. 

She unlocked the back of her car and pointed to the two cardboard boxes. Todd moved them into the back of his truck without his uncle’s help. 

She closed the hatchback and brushed her hands together. 

Todd said, “When it’s done, you and I are going to meet for the second half.”

“Okay. You said a few days. The earlier the better.”

“I understand the situation, Mrs. White. We’re going to do everything we can to help your family.”

“Speaking of which, I have to be getting back to them. You can call if there’s an emergency.”

“And to set up the meet.” Todd added with a grin. 

“Of course.” 

She drove away first. After twenty minutes of aimless driving, she parked in a grocery store parking lot and rechecked all the door locks. Her phone had been on silent and there was a missed call from her sister. This would be a good time and place to cry. A few tears fell, but it wasn’t what she thought it would be. She missed her family, her sweet little baby girl, her devastated son, her well-meaning sister. She even missed Hank. 

She decided to just risk it and drive home to the Schrader’s. If Todd and Jack were following her they might see Hank’s DEA vehicle in the driveway and back off.

When she opened the door, the smell of something sweet came out. She could hear her baby laughing. Flynn called out, “Hey mom, where have you been. Louis brought coffee cake.”

Skyler collapsed in tears on the couch. Her family gathered around her, assuming she was grieving Walt.

 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having some trouble focusing for reading and editing. Next chapter has Louis/Flynn fluff that I want to show you, but there's plot that has to happen too, and it takes so long to edit. Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

Skyler, Flynn and Marie sat in the funeral director’s office, listening to him talk too much. Skyler passed the urn catalog to her son.

“Flynn, do you want to choose?”

He couldn’t imagine his dad wanting a fancy vase thing. The plainest black plastic box seemed appropriate. 

He pointed to the default model on the last page of the catalog.

“Have you come to a decision or would you like more time?” the funeral director asked.

Skyler looked at the catalog in her son’s hand. “You want the plain one, honey?”

“Yeah.”

The man made a note of it on the form and said “That’s a sensible choice, especially if you plan on spreading the ashes. Many families like to spread the ashes somewhere that had held emotional significance to their loved one.”

Flynn yelled, “I don’t want him just blowing around out there! Who is this guy, Mom?! I don’t wanna lose the ashes. I- I want all of it in the box, with tape around it. I want all of it together!” 

Flynn looked at his aunt, “I’ll keep him in my room, if you don’t want him in the living room.” 

Marie put a hand on his back. “Flynn, honey, that’s fine. You can keep them in your room or you could put it on the mantel if you want. We don’t have to decide right now.” She looked at the director and asked, “It takes a week, right?”

“Or a week and a half. We’ll call you as soon as it’s ready. This paperwork is all in order. If I could just get a check or credit card… ”

Flynn stood up. 

“You’re an asshole!” 

He couldn’t be in that room another second. Who was this fuckin' stranger to give advice and ask for money? Money had almost kept his dad from getting the best medical care and now these people wanted more. You couldn’t even die for free. 

His mom’s car was locked so he leaned against it and cried. A woman his mom’s age stopped to ask if he was alright.

“Fine,” he spit out. Like it wasn’t fucking obvious how not alright he was, sobbing in public. Nobody knew anything. Nobody could help him. The only thing that would help would be to have his dad back. 

When they got back home, Marie rearranged the pictures in her house. She moved her bridal portrait into the master bedroom. In its place she hung a tasteful arrangement of family photos over the fireplace. There were pictures of Walt with baby Walter Junior, and another of him dressed as Santa. Flynn helped pick them out. 

 

* * *

With Skyler’s permission, Marie took over the memorial plans. She proofread Hank’s eulogy of Walt and put it in the paper. She ordered flowers. She invited people. She bought a spool of navy blue ribbon and decorated a big basket for people to set sympathy cards in. She assembled the slide show. She asked Principal Carmen to speak. She kept the focus on his scientific research, his teaching, his devotion as a father, and his courage in battling cancer. The day of, she made sure her sister and nephew had enough tissues and cough drops and bottles of water. She apologized on their behalf when they each left a little early. 

* * *

When people spoke about how great her husband had been, Skyler’s mind mercifully shut down to a dullness that kept their words at a distance. This distance also allowed her to let herself get hugged about a hundred times or more. She stayed when all she wanted to do was leave. 

Gretchen Shwartz offered her condolences in the same language everyone did, but there was something in her eyes. She knew Walt. She understood better than most. 

Skyler followed Gretchen into the bathroom. Her hands were shaking. 

Skyler asked, “You saw it. Right? You saw what kind of man her was?” 

Gretchen looked scared. “Oh, Skyler. I…” She paused and looked that the stalls were empty. “I knew Walt. He changed though. You’re not misremembering. He did change.”

Skyler hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear it out loud. Gratitude washed over her. This perfectly sane person had seen it too. 

Gretchen elaborated, “He was belligerent. He wouldn’t tell me where the money was coming from. He wanted me to lie for him. He expected me to. I’m sorry for my part in that whole thing. I’m sorry the way everything has gone."

 

* * * 

 

There were way too many cars along the street in front of the Schrader’s house. Flynn had already done the receiving line thing. He didn’t even want to get out of the car. 

Louis noticed he wasn’t moving. “Do you need a break?”

“I just don’t want to be around people.”

Louis pulled the keys out of the ignition and set them down. “Well, my mom’s in there, so you can leave me here I guess, and she’ll give me a ride.”

“You’re okay. I meant other people.”

“Oh, Okay. You wanna go to my house?”

Flynn nodded.

* * *

When Flynn woke up, it was dark. It took longer than it should have to figure out where he was. There was something warm on top of him. When he turned, the big warm lump jumped down with an irritated meow. Flynn had a blanket over him. As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he figured out he was on the Corbett’s couch and the cat was their cat, but it took him a groggy minute to recognize that that meant he was at their house. Every fact was in doubt and required verification. Orienting himself in a world without his dad took time. He had to realize the truth all over again and the pain hadn’t diminished over the last week. 

The cat did some grooming while Flynn sat up and located his crutches. 

He found Louis at his desk in his room, doing trigonometry and listening to headphones. It was so rare that Flynn was able to sneak up on someone. He nudged the book to get his attention. 

Louis dropped his pencil and closed the book. “Uh. Thank god you’re up.”

“Do you want help?” Flynn offered.

“No. I’m done with that shit for a while. I think I just want to be a dog walker or something. Something where I don’t have to take the SAT, or know everything about triangles. A whole year about triangles? Does that make any sense to you?”

“I can help you with it later.” He pulled at his wrinkled dress shirt sleeve. “At least you can button your own shirt and tie a tie.”

“I guess we better stick together then. I can tie your tie for you in morning when you go off to your job of finding out how tall a pole is without measuring it.”

Even though it was a joke, Flynn liked that idea a lot. 

“You looked really handsome today,” he complimented. 

Louis took his eyes away from the offending book and met Flynn’s gaze. “You too. You want me to unbutton that?”

Flynn held up an arm so Louis could get to the button at the wrist.

“I did the front this morning,” Flynn stated. 

“That’s good. That’s better than before isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It took forever. Hey, when I was sleeping on your couch, I took off my tie and I think Bon Bon stole it.”

They smiled. Flynn wanted to kiss him, but he also wanted to cry and to go be home with his little sister. 

“It’s probably under my mom’s bed then.”

“Yeah.”

Louis still held onto the cotton of the dress shirt after he was done opening the front of it. “You keep getting taller than me,” he said.

Flynn steadied himself on the door frame. The smell of Louis’s gum made him think about kissing even more.

Louis evaded the kiss as gently as he could.

Uncle Hank’s dating advice was to be persistent, but it didn’t apply to his situation. It might not apply to the real world at all. 

“What’s wrong?” Flynn asked.

Louis let go and got him a long-sleeved shirt out of his closet. He handed it to Flynn. “Here.” 

Flynn wished it could be simple. Hank’s stories made it sound liked once you liked a person and they like you back everything would be easy. Flynn sat against the desk and changed shirts. 

Louis looked, and didn’t look, busied himself kicking loose dirty clothes into his closet. He took some stuff off his bed and sat on it with his back against the wall. Flynn snuggled up next to him. Louis tucked in Flynn’s shirt tag, touching his neck as he did so. 

“I do want you to be my boyfriend,” Louis said.

Flynn looked at him with some confusion, “I thought we already were.”

“Well, okay good. That’s what I want.”

 

* * *

 

Skyler found it easier to work at her office than at home. She went through the business mail first and made a spread sheet of companies that needed to be notified of Walt’s death. She paid the car wash bills and made the next week’s work schedule. After all that, she considered going home to Hank and Marie’s, but Holly was still napping in her carrier, so Skyler went ahead and got the grocery bag of personal mail from the backseat of the car. A lot of it was obviously sympathy cards. The envelopes were larger, or they seemed larger. And the penmanship was neat, like the visual equivalent of hushed tones. She put them all back in the bag, but there was one small pale green envelope that drew her eye. It was too small to be a standard sympathy card. Inside was a folded sheet in the same minty shade. The paper felt expensive. She skipped to the signature at the end - Pamela. 

_Dear Skyler,_  
_I saw your husband’s obituary in the paper. This must be a difficult and busy time, but if you would still like to have that glass of wine, I’m available. I have thought of you often and regretted that I was unable to help you with your case. Perhaps we would be more suited as friends than we were as client and counsel.  
In sympathy, Pamela _

Skyler read it twice and smiled. 

There was a polite knock at her office door. 

Skyler saw Todd and her face fell. He was unnervingly polite. He knocked on the open door, so she would look up and see him. He smiled at her. 

“May I come in Mrs. White?”

She was thrown off. He was supposed to call to let her know how it went and schedule the money drop-off. 

Skyler checked her surroundings. Most of the blinds behind her were open. It was reassuring that the workers could see in. It made her feel safer in the moment, but she hadn’t wanted to ever be seen with this man. 

Todd said, “Like I told the person at the register, I’d like to apply for a job. Is it okay if I close this door?”

Skyler nodded. Holly whimpered, and Skyler realized she was gripping her too tightly. She didn’t exactly remember picking her up. Skyler kept both arms around her baby, but loosened them a little. 

Her heart was racing. She suddenly smelled like stress, and hoped Todd couldn’t tell. 

“Why are you here? I thought you were going to call.”

Todd closed the door and sat down. He gestured at the pack of cigarettes that had slipped out of her bag. “My mom used to smoke that brand when I was a kid.” He sat down. “That’s probably the only thing you two have in common, you being like a fancy business woman and all.”

She wanted to appear casual, but there was nothing there that she could make a conversation out of. 

“So the job is done then?”

“Yeah. It’s done.”

“I can meet you later today with the rest of the money.”

“Sorry. With the light behind you like that, you look like Marilyn Monroe. You know that one poster where she looks like she just woke up?”

“No.” 

Todd changed the subject. “It’s important for a man to have work. It’s part of his self-esteem. I think I’d be real good at washing cars.”

Skyler wished to god that her baby was somewhere else. She wished she’d never asked Saul for Todd’s name. She wished she’d turned Walt in to the cops as soon as she’d known. It was hard to know how far back her regret should go. The only thing she was sure of was that she was ill equipped to protect Holly right them. All she had was mace, and in this enclosed space it might do more damage to the baby than Todd. 

“Why? It’s boring and it doesn’t pay very well," She said without letting her voice shake.

“I don’t mind.”

“I don’t really need anyone right now.”

Todd’s expression didn’t change. “Maybe part-time?”

Fuck. He wasn’t going to let this go. Maybe he’d come in a few times and loose interest. 

“My workers call in sick on Mondays a lot. You could be a sub. I’d call you if more than one person called in and I needed coverage.” 

Todd asked, “Do you think they lie to you and say they’re sick when they’re not?”

“Sometimes.”

Todd shook his head. “Well, I would never lie to you.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11-13-2017 I'm still working on this fic. It's not abandoned. Thanks for reading.


	5. Chapter 5

Flynn and Louis were playing Stratego at the Schrader’s dining room table when Holly woke up fussy. Flynn was glad she woke up. He was having a hard time focusing on the game and wanted an excuse to quit.

He said, “She probably needs a new diaper.”

“Do you want me to get her?” Louis asked.  


“I can do it, if I use the stroller to carry her.”  


Flynn pushed the stroller up next to the play pen and put the brake on. When he tested the stability of the play pen, it slid.  


Louis had a hard time watching. “Dude, I can help you. I could put her on the couch on the changing blanket.”  


“I could do it if the sides folded down like they do on the crib.”  


“Yeah. And the crib is higher. We should put her in overalls so you could just pick her up by the back of them with one hand. Like a handle, you know?”  


Holly looked at Flynn and raised her arms to be picked up.  


Without being asked, Louis came over and put his arms out towards Holly. She seemed amenable to being picked up by him, so he got her and sat with her on the couch.  


Flynn got the diaper bag and took care of business.  


When he was done, Holly crawled away from them and gummed one of Marie’s coffee table books.  


Flynn watched and realized he’d started crying again.  


***

Skyler got to the grove early and ordered a coffee. Pamela arrived a few minutes later, looking a little different in jeans and a casual sweater.

“It’s good to see you,” Pamela said, giving her a slight hug. “I’m glad you could make it. Are you hungry?”

“Yes, I actually am.” 

“That’s good. Grieving is hard work. It’s good to eat.” 

They both ordered the eggs and avocado on toast. 

“So how are you holding up?” 

“Okay," Skyler answered. "I wanted to tell you: you were helpful, even though I didn’t take your advice. Thank you for being my lawyer. I never thanked you.” 

Pamela smiled sadly. “Like I said in the letter, I wish I could have helped. Are you and your children safe now?” 

“Absolutely. We live with my sister and her husband. Sometimes my sister watches the baby, and sometimes I take her to work with me.” 

“Is this the same work where you were dating your boss?” 

“No. I manage a carwash now.” 

Skyler did not want to think about how much truth was omitted from that sentence. Calling herself a carwash manager left out the titles of owner and money launderer. And, god, if she even tried to explain what had happened to Ted. She realized how much there was about her now that only Saul Goodman knew. She wondered how she’d got to this point where she belonged in the company of a tacky local celebrity lawyer instead of a competent one. 

Skyler asked, “But what about you? How are you? You have two little kids right?” 

“Yeah. Gracie and Jonas. My wife and I are talking about a third.” 

Skyler smiled. “That’s wonderful.” 

They talked about their kids and how good the food was. 

Pamela had that compassionate expression that had made Skyler trust her in the first place. Pamela set down her fork. “What is it Skyler? You can tell me. You weren’t safe were you? I had a bad feeling, but I didn’t press you on it.” 

“When you asked me what I almost told the police, there was more than one thing.” 

“Okay.” 

Skyler looked at her watch. Surely, Pamela had better things to do on a Saturday. “I need to hire a therapist, not take up your time.” 

“Therapy is a good idea, but I’m here right now, if you want to say it.” 

“There were some things that weren’t consensual.” 

They held hands across the table. 

Skyler talked about it for the first time ever. “I actually spoke to a detective two days after it happened. After it happened the first time. We thought Walt was missing. He, the detective, asked me if my husband had been acting differently, but my son was sitting right there. He’s a junior. I mean who wants to enter adulthood being the junior of a man who did that? I tried to smooth things over for the sake of the family. We were married. It could almost be considered a misunderstanding. I was angry at myself for feeling ashamed. He should have been ashamed, not me.” 

Pamela said “I’m so sorry. For what it’s worth, you strike me as a strong person. I think you’re going to get through all this.” 

Skyler wiped her eyes, and they finished their breakfasts. They agreed they should “do this again sometime,” and they both meant it. 

 

***

After school the boys went to Flynn’s old house to cool off in the pool.  


“Is your mom going to sell this place?” Louis asked.  


“I don’t know. I think she likes knowing she has a place to go if Marie drives her crazy.”  


“I like this house.”  


Flynn pointed out, “Yours is way bigger and nicer.”  


“I like it because it reminds me of you. Remember when we carved boats out of soap and put them in here?”  


“And you abandoned me when my parents found out and got mad.”  


Louis laughed. “We were eating dinner outside and your dad was like, ‘Why is the pool cloudy?’”  


“And you just dropped your chicken leg, and said you had asthma, and you needed to call your mom to go home.”  


Louis laughed. “I don’t even know why I said asthma.”  


“Cause you’re a coward.”  


“Yeah, that must be it.”  


They swam in closer together and kissed.  


***

Holly called Hank “Dada.” There was no mistaking it. Skyler heard it even though she was over at the table looking at a ridiculous youtube clip on the laptop with Flynn and Marie. Half of what Holly said was communication and the other half was just testing out her voice, but this was a word, no doubt about it.  


Hank held Holly out in front of him with straight arms, like he could distance himself from her statement.  


He made eye contact. “Sorry, Sky. I didn’t tell her to say that. Heck, I’ve been trying to get her to call me ASAC Schrader.”  


Flynn was confused. He’d been laughing so hard at the cat on a treadmill video that he’d missed it. “What? Did she say ‘shit’ or something? I never swear in front of her, Mom. She must have got it from TV.”  


Even the baby looked to her to see how she’d react. Skyler wanted to reassure them, but she couldn’t. She put a hand to the little glass beads of her necklace.  


Hank answered his nephew, “Naw, this little angel is never going to cuss. She’s just trying to learn my name.” To Holly, he modeled how to say "Hank".  


He set her down on the purple shag rug so he could point to himself “Uncle Hank,” then point to her and say “Baby Holly.” Holly liked hearing her own name, so he repeated it in different variations. “Little Miss Holly White. Holly, Holly, Bo Bolly.” The name game slipped into tickling.  


Hank looked to his sister-in-law, who gave him a weak smile of gratitude.

*** 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This was the most challenging thing I've ever written. It's not as near and dear to my heart as some of my other fics, but I've worked the hardest on it. I know I left the Todd aspect dangling. I couldn't figure out how to get rid of him. I'm better at "slice of life" than plot.


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